Your Eyes Open
by nicole1213
Summary: Grey’s Anatomy House crossover fic. Cameron attempts to escape the remnants of her broken relationship with House and rediscover her optimism by escaping to Seattle, where she befriends Meredith, Dr. McDreamy, and the others. Will House allow Cameron to l
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Grey's Anatomy/ House crossover fic (that's not as bad as it sounds, I promise!). Cameron attempts to escape the remnants of her broken relationship with House and rediscover her optimism by escaping to Seattle, where she befriends Meredith and Dr. McDreamy. Will House allow Cameron to leave him behind for good? Can Meredith and Derek repair the broken trust between them before it's too late? Read, review, and find out!

MerDer, CameronHouse, some Maddison. Other characters come in and out but will probably not be too central. Spoilers for GA and House up to Season 3. This is my first-ever crossover fic so please read and review!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own GA or House (and I know y'all know who does). I am just taking them out for a spin. Lyrics (and title) taken from Keane.

Chapter 1 

"_**It's a lonely road that you have chosen.**_

_**Morning comes and you don't want to know me anymore."**_

He was in his private office when she entered the Diagnostic Team's suite that morning. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the Gameboy and telltale iPod wires, sure to be blasting some loud and raucous rock ballad suitably incongruous for the early hour – and yet she wouldn't give him the satisfaction of actually looking at him. _Everyone lies, Cameron._ It was time.

Her gaze shifted to observe her colleagues, fellow captives in House's sadistic yet inevitable orbital pull. No more. Foreman and Chase looked up from their easy banter over the latest copy of _NEJM_ as she cleared her throat.

Damn.

Now that the moment had arrived, she wished they could have done this anywhere but here. Even though House had his iPod turned up and his back to her, she felt her skin prickle as though he could see her. Feel her. She shook her long brown hair as though to rid herself of her own thoughts. _Don't be silly, Cameron._

"Cameron." It was Foreman who spoke. "I thought you were …on vacation." It was clear from his hesitation that he had heard the rumors. Who had she been kidding? The gossip mill at PPTH ran faster than the speed of light. She blamed only herself for the hurt in Foreman's voice.

"Not vacation, Foreman," she sighed softly. "Chase, Foreman …" Damn, this was hard. "It's not permanent. I don't think it's permanent. I just –" she swore softly, refusing to look in the direction of the man they were all thinking about. "I can't think, here, right now. I can't remember why I wanted to do this, why I wanted to become a doctor. How I became … like this. It's just sabbatical," she trailed off, lamely.

Chase nodded in understanding. "A breath of fresh air."

"Yes."

"You'll be back." Foreman, with a slight note of distrust.

"Yes."

There was a soft moment of silence. They understood. She had known they would understand. And then she rushed to their open arms, her mind returning to the conversation with Cuddy that had put this whole series of events into motion.

_**Three Weeks Earlier**_

"I need a sabbatical." She had rushed into Cuddy's office, uncharacteristically rude, without an appointment, without thought, really, following her latest exchange with House. _Everybody lies, Cameron. _No matter what he said, it was all she heard. Despite the time that had passed, his tone still rang strong in her ears. House's words weren't ever really going to go away, were they?

"Dr. Cameron?"

"I need a sabbatical," she repeated, firmly. Less hysterical this time. She hoped.

"Typically, we only offer sabbaticals for attendings with teaching responsibility," Cuddy replied, mildly, sizing the younger woman up. "You don't exactly fit the bill."

"Attendings with teaching responsibility have nothing on House," Cameron responded, gritting her teeth.

Cuddy sighed. Truthfully, who hadn't seen this coming? She was surprised the girl had made it this far – it was certainly longer than the hospital betting pool had predicted. She wondered what had finally snapped, and whether Cameron was coming back. "Where will you go?" she asked, careful to betray no emotion.

"My medical school mentor has a relationship with Richard Weber, Chief of Surgery out at Seattle Grace. He can help me get a temporary appointment to their Diagnostics Program. They're doing some pretty cutting edge stuff."

"PPTH is ranked number one in diagnostics and both you and Richard Weber know it. What is this about, Dr. Cameron?"

"I need a break, Cuddy!" Well, that came out sounding angrier than she had meant. Was it really her voice, sounding so harsh? Maybe she really was losing it. Cameron paused, one second to catch her breath, another for her sanity.

"I'll come back," she said, slowly, sorrowfully, making sure to enunciate every word, all the while wishing she were not quite this weak. "This is my career. I care about my career. I care about my patients. I care about the work we do. I care about this. I care about … him." She stared defiantly at the older woman, daring her to call the bluff.

"I just need to breathe. Please."

**Present**

And so she had gotten her sabbatical, for if anyone at the hospital besides Cameron could understand how House could wear a woman down it was Lisa Cuddy. And now she stood there, with her two compatriots, brothers in arms, almost, really – pretending that she was just maybe not saying goodbye. Trying to convince herself, futilely, that this was not running away. Allison Cameron did not run – not, at least, until she arrived here.

She kept her tone light. "It's just Seattle. I'll call." _It's for the best._ The unspoken words. Backing away from them, with their good intentions and their warm wishes. She preferred the feeling of coldness that had come to settle in her stomach as of late. Still, and pointedly, ignoring the figure with his back to the glass door. _Goodbye, House_. It was good, really, that he was self-absorbed, that he didn't see her, couldn't hear. Abruptly, she turned and fled.

Behind the glass door, House let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding. His headphones were on, but when he'd caught the reflection of the glass suite door against his window he had known, his leg throbbing lightly, almost tickling, in the way it did only when _she_ was nearby.

So he had muted the volume and listened, without compunction. If she wouldn't look at him, mention his name, wouldn't be truthful with herself or with the others it was all he could do really, he told himself. At Cameron's words House half-smiled, a twisted grimace of both pain and pride. Perhaps his smartest duckling had finally learned the hardest House lesson of all.

_Everybody lies._ He would not allow himself to finish that sentence, even in the solitude of his office, when Cameron was long gone.

_Everybody lies … even me_.

**TBC.**

A/N: First chapter is a little House-centric, I know … but keep reading: SGH action is coming in chapter 2! 


	2. Chapter 2

**Description: **Grey's Anatomy/ House crossover fic (that's not as bad as it sounds, I promise!). Cameron attempts to escape the remnants of her broken relationship with House and rediscover her optimism by escaping to Seattle, where she befriends Meredith and Dr. McDreamy. Will House allow Cameron to leave him behind for good? Can Meredith and Derek repair the broken trust between them before it's too late? Read, review, and find out!

MerDer, CameronHouse, some Maddison. Other characters come in and out but will probably not be too central. Spoilers for GA and House up to Season 3. This is my first-ever crossover fic so please read and review!

**Disclaimer: **See chapter 1. Still not mine. Just taking them for a spin. Musical accompaniment from Keane.

**Chapter 2:** In which two worlds collide … enter Meredith.

"_**It's a long time since your heart was frozen.**_

_**Morning comes and you don't want to know me anymore."**_

Cameron pulled anxiously on her long ponytail as she studied the map before her, attempting to simultaneously locate where she was, and determine the reason why where she was was not the Diagnostics lab. Or for that matter, Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. _It must have been that left I took up on Four. _Cameron laughed ruefully, carefully adjusting her collared top. She had awoken early this morning to prepare, her dress neat and professional as always. It was her first day of work, and already she was late, and already she felt woefully out of place. She glanced around, taking in the attire of the doctors and nurses moving hurriedly past her. None wore suits; in fact, most were attired in blue and green SGH scrubs.

_They seem young. And happy._ Well, she had been like that once, and that's why she was here. _Stop acting like a first-year intern, Allison._ Cameron squared her shoulders and returned to scrutinizing the map with renewed determination. She was clearly on the surgical floor. How had she managed that? And why were hospitals always so confusing?

Cameron's cell phone rang, and she tensed reflexively. There was only one person that could be. One person who would be inconsiderate enough to call and rattle her this early into her first day at work. _I haven't even had my damn coffee yet._ Her eyes clouded with memories she had flown halfway across the country to escape. _Relax. It may just be your new boss calling to find out where in the world you are. _

_Yeah right._ Steeling herself, she flipped open the phone and answered in her best professional voice.

"Allison Cameron."

Meredith Grey stood filling out a chart at the nurse's station, preoccupied by this evening's coming date with the McVet. Absently, she studied a striking young woman several feet away struggling with a hospital map located by the elevator. The woman didn't look like a patient, but Meredith had never seen her before. And then the woman's phone rang, and the expression on her face drew Meredith's attention. It was an expression that was familiar to her, an expression she had felt on her own face numerous times – part maybe-love, part maybe-hate, an element of pure exhaustion. _How many times had she looked like that during the months of Satan's reign?_ Meredith wondered to herself, surreptitiously inching closer so she could listen in on the stranger's conversation.

Things had changed, of course. There had been the steamy McSex at the prom, followed by the troubles with Izzie. Derek had confessed his love and Finn had thrown his hat in the ring. And Meredith was dating. Both of them.

During their first "McDate," as Cristina had taken to calling it, Derek had told her about walking in on Addison and Mark for the second time. He had broken into laughter as he got to the punch line, and he seemed so genuinely relieved that Meredith had joined him in laughter. Some of the old tension had dissipated. Still, it was weird, seeing McSteamy around the hospital now, remembering their old bond from the dirty ex-mistress club. And seeing Addison happy – while there was tension between them (and Meredith was pretty sure she deserved whatever Addison wanted to throw at her), the older woman didn't seem interested in tormenting Meredith for her transgressions. She really was no longer Satan, the interns had to concede.

_But how long can a girl hold out against two men at once? Seriously. _Meredith now found herself trying desperately to put off the decision she knew was inevitable. She grimaced slightly at her own self-absorption, pushing that line of thinking from her head. It was so much more entertaining to worry about other people's problems.

"House I have only been in this hospital for two damn hours, I am jet lagged, and I haven't had my coffee yet. What do you want? No, I didn't do your charts before I left. No, I haven't killed anyone yet. I haven't – House, I hardly think that's any of your business. You have no right to – yes, we ruled out pneumothorax – House, there are actually cardiologists at PPTH, so why don't you ask them about the blood gas?" She held the phone away from her ear, momentarily, rubbing at her temples as if to prevent a migraine. "I have to go, House." Cameron paused. And then, softly, "Please don't call me anymore."

Meredith's interest was piqued. There was nothing like some good hospital gossip to start off a dreary Seattle Monday. She approached the woman cautiously– there was something in that look she was currently giving the elevator, as though she wanted to kick it or cry or do something else – that also reminded Meredith too much of the looks that she herself had given that same elevator numerous times. Before. Before the prom. But still – you never could tell when you were dealing with someone who really was crazy.

"I promise that whatever it is, it won't feel better if you take it out on the elevator," Meredith remarked mildly. The other woman looked up in surprise. "You don't look like a patient. You certainly don't talk like a patient. So you must be new."

The darker-haired woman's eyes flashed momentarily with emotion – anger? surprise? – before she smiled and extended her hand. "Allison Cameron. Immunologist from Princeton-Plainsboro. I'm here on a three-month Diagnostic fellowship, this is supposed to be my first day … if you could only show me where the lab is?" she pleaded anxiously. Meredith laughed.

"You need a freakin MD to find your way around here – it's a trick we're trying to play on unsuspecting patients. Meredith Grey. Surgical intern. Diagnostics is in the basement. I can take you down." Cameron nodded her assent, and Meredith hurriedly scribbled her signature on the chart before her and then pressed the call button for the elevator.

"So," Meredith smiled mischievously. "That phone call was from your boss?" At Cameron's stricken, embarrassed look, she hurried to explain. "Hey I'm an intern. I have a resident that they call the Nazi and I slept with my married attending before I knew he was married. Or an attending. Whatever you've got, I can beat it." _Shit. Meredith, you have got to stop introducing yourself to strangers as the scary-damaged girl._

To her relief, Cameron laughed. Hesitantly, but there it was. "Former," she said quietly, after a pause. "That was my former boss. I think. And if you knew him, you might not think you could beat me." She didn't offer any more as the elevator began to descend, but Meredith was undeterred.

"So after three months?" she pressed.

"That depends on how much I like it here." _Among other things._

Meredith smiled knowingly. "Well, here we are then." A frosted glass door etched with the phrase SGH Diagnostics was before them. She paused. "And, Dr. Cameron, I hope you like it. Here, I mean, it's none of my business, but -" _Way to ramble, Meredith. _"Everyone deserves a second chance," she finished, lamely.

"Now why couldn't I find that?" Cameron joked, touched by Meredith's impromptu soliloquy but unsure of how to show it.

"Nice meeting you, Dr. Cameron."

"Call me Allison," Cameron corrected, and smiled.

"Meredith," the younger woman replied. "I'll see you around." With that, she turned on her heel, off to find Izzie, and perhaps Cristina, and regale them with her tale of SGH's newest addition.

Left alone, Cameron sighedMeredith seemed … a little strange, but nice. Still, now was not the time to worry about making friends, not when she'd made it this far on her own. _It's now or never, or you can run back to House._ Squaring her shoulders, she pushed the door open.

**A/N:** Next up, Cameron gets her first patient and meets Derek, and then things start to pick up. Feed the beast and review!


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed – I've edited chapter 2 (just a bit) based on your feedback! What happens next? Read, review, and find out!

Grey's Anatomy/House crossover. MerDer, CameronHouse, some Maddison. Other characters come in and out but will probably not be too central. Spoilers for GA and House up to Season 3. This chapter rated M for language (not too bad, I'm just cautious).

**Disclaimer:** If I owned House (or McDreamy, for that matter) – well, let's just say I wouldn't be sitting here writing this. Lyrics are Snow Patrol's "Set the Fire to the Third Bar."

**Chapter 3: **Cameron, meet Derek.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"_**I'm miles from where you are, I lay down on the cold ground**_

_**I pray that something picks me up and sets me down in your warm arms"**_

"What about cerebral phaeohyphomycosis?" Cameron leaned back slightly in her chair to get a better look at the head CT as the rest of her team turned to stare at her. _First day, and already making waves, Cameron?_ House's voice mocked inside her head, but she firmly pushed any doubts about her ability to the side.

"That's extremely rare, Dr. Cameron. And there is no evidence to prove that this girl has even been exposed to any fungi," her new boss, Dr. McArthur, tossed back. Cameron could see that she was considering the possibility, though. McArthur was an older, kindly woman, more like the professors she remembered from medical school than the kind of colleague with whom she was used to working. And even this team's disagreements were civil. _This must be a diagnostician's heaven_.

"I know it's rare, I just – we've eliminated all of the more probable causes," Cameron explained. She paused. "I saw something like this once before. Back in Princeton."

McArthur sighed. "Anyone have any better ideas? Treating physician's name is Derek Shepard. Get his consent and run the test. Let's see if we get lucky, people."

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Cameron decided to wait with the patient while she paged Dr. Shepard. It still felt somewhat foreign, to treat a patient like a human being, rather than something to be poked and prodded at the team's whim.

In this case, her potential cerebral phaeohyphomycosis was a spunky 8-year old girl named Amelia, and by the time Derek Shepard arrived the two were deep into a game of Go Fish, cards flying wildly across the hospital bed.

"Amelia, how are you feeling?" Derek's eyes crinkled, and his smile displayed his full dimples. _Quite the bedside manner_, Cameron caught herself thinking. _Almost makes you want to be a neurological patient._

"Better since Allison came. We've been playing cards forever," Amelia chirped.

"And you must be the new diagnostician. Sorry to keep you waiting. Craniotomy that ran long."

"Allison Cameron, and I'm sure the patient's brain needed your attention far more urgently than I do," she smiled. "Amelia, do you mind if I talk to Dr. Shepard alone for a moment?"

"Allison's going to fix me," the child informed Derek with eyes shining full of faith and hope.

Cameron squeezed her shoulder. "I am sure going to try."

ooooooooooooooooooo

"Cerebral phaeohyphomycosis? That's quite a call, Dr. Cameron. Princeton's reputation for wild diagnostics is certainly not unearned."

"You know us diagnosticians," Cameron quipped. "Turn your back on us for a moment and we're running amok through the hospital."

Derek rubbed his eyes tiredly. "We'll need to do a brain biopsy to be sure …"

"…And Amelia's been through enough as it is," Cameron finished his thought. "I'm aware of the stakes, Dr. Shepard. But if I'm right, there could be severe neurotropism. If we don't catch it soon, she dies."

He considered her thoughtfully.

"I knew Gregory House, you know," he said, suddenly. She paled. "He was first in our class at Columbia. I was second. He was quite brilliant back then, and from what I read in the literature he still is."

"You know House?" Cameron gasped.

"He used to play jazz piano at a club down on 14th street," Derek reminisced. "I met my wife – ex-wife – Addison there. She was a med student at NYU."

At this Cameron really did feel the need to sit down. "You're married to Addison Shepard? The neonatologist?"

ooooooooooooooooooo

Derek looked at Allison Cameron curiously. The woman was clearly shaken. "I was married to her," he corrected gently, though he realized that she was not reacting to the semantics of his marital situation.

Involuntarily, Cameron felt herself flash back in time, the shock and pain rolling over her in waves. Brian, in his sickbed. They had taken him to New York, in search of the best cancer treatment center – in search of a cure that didn't exist. She was four months pregnant with his child, conceived the night of his diagnosis, a celebration of life. And then there had been pain, so much pain.

"She treated me once," she admitted, slowly, realizing that she had drifted off in memory and Derek was now staring at her. "Addison."

Derek caught himself looking for her ring, wondering how old she could possibly be to have a child. She looked so _young_. "She's here, you know. Addison is. We're not married, but she's here – I could tell her that –"

"No!" Cameron's response was almost violent, and Derek caught at her elbow in a protective reflex. She caught his eye, then looked away. "We … I … I lost the baby. Miscarriage. No sense in reminiscing." _Why am I telling him this?_ The mention of Addison had shocked her. She had worked at PPTH for all that time without mentioning it once, but he looked at her with those blue eyes, and she spilled her sorry guts. Seeing the sympathy in Derek's eyes, Cameron had a tremendous urge to change the subject – to anything but the child she had carried and lost.

"So you know Dr. House, huh?" she said lightly, wiping furiously at her eyes. "Was he always a misanthropic, cynical, drug-addicted bastard?" _Well. That certainly lightens the tone, Allison._

Derek was taken aback, both at the change of topic and the undercurrent of anger in Cameron's voice.

"Actually …" he replied, careful to keep his tone measured. "No, he was quite charming, at least when he wanted to be. Spent a lot of time in the library, I remember. Although he didn't seem to need it – he had an almost photographic memory. Especially when it came to women," Derek winked.

"Well he certainly uses the cane to good effect now," Allison mused, pinkening slightly at the memory of House poking her, pulling her forward with the damn thing.

"Cane?" Derek asked quizzically.

"Oh my," Allison sighed. "You don't know?" Derek shook his head. _Well that explains why he didn't understand the whole bit about House being a misanthropic bastard._ "It was an infarction, about seven years ago now I'd guess. He lost quite a bit of leg muscle, walks with a cane. It keeps him in constant low-grade pain." She sighed again. "I didn't know him before the … incident … but from what I understand, it changed him. He became difficult. Withdrawn. Sarcastic." _Lonely._ "… Difficult to work with."

"Oh." Derek squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn't known House all that well, but the downfall of a colleague was enough to remind you of your own mortality. "He didn't attend our ten-year reunion. I didn't know."

"He probably wanted it that way. He's not an easy man to know, these days. And that's why I'm here." Cameron forced her tone to be light.

Derek looked her over again in a new light. He knew a little something about needing to escape someone so badly that you'd fly clear across the country to do it. "That bad? Seattle's about as far as you can get from Princeton," was all he said. She grimaced. "You know, I know a little something about being new to this city. How about this? I'll buy you a cup of coffee and spill some of my trade secrets. In exchange, I want you to give me the inside story on a case of Dr. House's that I read about in _Neurology_ – fascinating stuff."

"And you'll do the test on Amelia," Cameron prodded.

Derek raised an eyebrow, but she stood her ground.

"You drive a hard bargain." He sighed. "House used to be brilliant, and he may have changed, but I'm guessing he still is. And you're one of his. So fine. I will do the biopsy for Amelia. But you better have something here, Dr. Cameron." She smiled in return. "Well come on then. Let's go tell our patient the news."

Cameron felt a sense of immense satisfaction. She might not be a duckling anymore, but she sure as hell had the skills to save this little girl's life.

ooooooooooooooooooo

**A/N: **Don't worry, Cameron not going to get involved with Derek – they just "get" each other. (And a little jealousy won't hurt Meredith. I promise.) Please review. Your feedback makes me happy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** Don't own them. Though in my sleep-deprived, applying-to-grad-school state, I could probably argue insanity. Song is Walter Bobbie (I'm branching out).

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"**And the people all said, sit down**

**Sit down, you're rocking the boat"**

"I met someone." Meredith slid her tray across the outdoor table and settled herself in a chair with a satisfied plop. The other interns looked up from their huddled discussion, giving her guilty looks, but in her excitement Meredith was momentarily oblivious to their discomfort.

"Er, uh, you met someone?" Cristina was the first to recover her composure. George and Alex shot one last look over their shoulders before turning to give their attention to Meredith. "Geeze, Mer," Cristina continued, "You're already screwing two men at once. Don't you think you're taking this dating thing a little too seriously?"

"Oh my god I am never going to sleep again," George moaned. "McDreamy and the Vet are bad enough. This is going to be worse that tattooed ass guy."

"Like the Non-Doctor makes any noise," Cristina retorted. "He's probably one of those guys who thinks that sex should be all quiet and pure –"

"First of all," Meredith interjected, shooting her friend a dirty look. "I am not sleeping with Finn. Or with Derek. Only dirty whores give it up on the first date, and I am not a dirty whore."

"Anymore," countered Alex. Cristina snorted, milk spraying across the table.

"You are my _person_," Meredith admonished her. "And secondly, I have gossip. I met a woman."

"Kinky," came Alex's immediate reply. Meredith gave him a practiced glare.

"An immunologist," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "Specifically, SGH's new immunologist. She is …" Suddenly, something caught Meredith's eye. Those dark blue scrubs, that wavy black hair – was that Derek? He was leaning in towards a woman over his cup of coffee, an interested expression on his face, and suddenly his dimples crinkled as his companion tossed her head back in laughter. Long waves of chestnut hair, perfectly proportioned figure, neatly manicured nails resting lightly next to his hand.

"… she is apparently currently having her way with my, my –"

"McDreamy?" Cristina supplied helpfully, only to be rewarded with an icy death glare.

"Woah, you met Dr. Gorgeous over there?" Alex was suddenly interested.

"McBeautiful?" George piped up helpfully. "McHot? Mc –

"Shutup George," snapped Meredith.

"What, only girls can give McNicknames?" George was wounded.

"Bambi, you are such a woman." snorted Alex.

"Alex!" George shouted in frustration, his hands going up to run through his messy hair in habitual reaction to the other man's taunts.

oooooooooooooooooooo

The noise from the other side of the cafeteria caught Cameron's attention, and she glanced over Derek's shoulder to determine the source of the commotion. A table full of rowdy interns, and was that –

"Meredith," she said quietly, catching her eye. The other woman was glaring at her , pale as a ghost.

"Exactly," said Derek, oblivious to her gaze. "Meredith is the reason I stayed here instead of going back to New York. She's – she's – she's indescribable," he finished, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile.

For an instant, a dark emotion welled up within Cameron and she toyed with the idea of saying something snide about attending-intern relationships. _But he is not House, and she is not you_. Just as quickly, the emotion was gone, her placid mask replaced firmly over the abyss. Besides, judging from the look Meredith was still giving them, oblivious to her bickering friends, it was pretty clear Derek had bigger things to worry about at the moment.

"Actually, I've already met Meredith," she told Derek calmly. "And judging by the expression on her face right now, I'm pretty sure thinks that this," Cameron gestured to the two of them, "Is more than platonic welcome-to-Seattle coffee."

"Excuse me?" Derek scratched his forehead, puzzled. Cameron sighed and then gestured across the cafeteria. Men were so oblivious.

Derek whipped his head around, but Meredith just gave him a glare and busied herself in conversation.

"Shit."

"If looks could kill …" Cameron began.

"I'd be incinerated?" Derek laughed ruefully. "Well come on then. I want you to meet the rest of the surgical gang … and apparently I have some explaining to do."

For an instant, Cameron hesitated. It had been so long since she had friends of her own - since med school, since Brian, maybe even before? She'd gotten comfortable in her solitude. It was what allowed her to cut her losses and run when PPTH became too much. _Run._ At that thought, Cameron paused. She was not House. She didn't shut herself off when the going got tough. Plus, if she could put up with House's ways, she could totally do friends. Really.

"Lead the way," she said lightly, giving Derek no hint of the turmoil within.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

Meredith looked up, stony-faced, as the pair approached.

"Gang, I'd like you to meet Allison Cameron," Derek said casually, his hands stuffed easily in his pockets. "A fellow Seattle transplant."

"Temporarily," Cameron added shyly, laughing as George and Alex stumbled over themselves in their haste to give up their chairs for her.

"If we can't convince her to stay," Derek conceded. "She's on loan to SGH Immunology from Greg House's Diagnostics group at Princeton. I'm sure you all remember the case from Grand Rounds a few months back?"

"THE Dr. House!?" Cristina exclaimed, then shoved a hand over her mouth, shooting an apprehensive look at her friend. "Sorry Mer, but Dr. House is like a legend. Plus, he's like living proof that I don't need to develop a bedside manner." Cameron laughed at this, electing to take a seat between Alex and George.

"Good to see you again, Allison," Meredith said, but her tone was strangely distant and her eyes never strayed from Derek's face. "I see you're … making yourself at home." Meredith's pager picked that moment to erupt, and she sighed angrily as she glanced at the message. "I'm on code team, I've got to go." With that, she was darting out of the cafeteria, long dirty-blonde hair covering her eyes and her emotions.

Cameron shot Derek a glance laden with meaning. _Fix this, Derek_. If she had the opportunity to have real friends she sure didn't want him screwing it up. He nodded, following Meredith from the cafeteria.

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Meredith. Meredith, wait!" Derek grabbed her arm, pulling her to a halt. "Are you OK? Talk to me."

Meredith wrenched her arm from his grasp. "I'm fine, Derek, other than the slight problem with my patient coding up on Four. Go back to your coffee date." It came out sounding more vicious than she had attended, but she wasn't sorry.

"Meredith," Derek sighed in that way that made her feel like a completely petulant child as he slipped into the elevator behind her. Luckily, it was empty. She refused to meet his gaze. "First of all, it's not a date. She's on my neuro case, she had some ideas for diagnosis, it turns out I went to med school with her boss." Probably not the time to tell Meredith that they'd been comparing notes on the kinds situations that would make one move clear across the country to a trailer, or, in her case, no home at all. "And secondly, it's OK for you to date multiple men, but it's not OK for me to get coffee with another woman?"

At this Meredith whirled, turning on him furiously. "Yes, Derek. That's exactly what I am saying. And guess what? I get to say that. Because you broke me. And your divorce was just finalized. And your ex-wife is my boss, and she won't look at me, and that bothers me, so I guess I'm not quite over being the dirty whore yet. Trust is a hard thing to repair, and I don't see you trying all that hard. So if you'll excuse me, my patient is dying."

Her tirade spent, she dashed off the elevator in a dead sprint towards the ICU. Still trying to untangle and absorb her words, Derek leaned back against the elevator wall in a daze.

oooooooooooooooooooo

The door to the supply closet opened just an inch, letting a ray of fluorescent light pool around Meredith's feet. She sat holding her knees, head down, refusing to acknowledge the intruder.

"Ah, so this is where you've moved the meetings for the dirty mistresses club," Mark Sloan joked.

"Didn't think you were a part of our little gang anymore," Meredith said crossly, not allowing herself to be cheered up. "Go away."

"What's wrong?" Rather than heeding her request, he sat, cross-legged, at her feet, looking expectant. "You've ditched making out in elevators for crying in supply closets?"

"I'm not crying," Meredith protested guiltily, rubbing the remaining moisture from her red eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm not – fine, but not because of what you think – Mark my patient died!" she cried, exasperated by the raised eyebrow she was receiving from him. "On the code team? Seriously! Doesn't anybody care about the patients around here anymore? Derek's all flirting with random immunologists and you're – glowing," she said suspiciously. "Mark Sloan, you are glowing. Please do not tell me you've just had sex with a certain red-headed OBGYN within the walls of this hospital. Seriously!"

Marked shrugged, good humored. "Mighty high ground, little miss take-me-in-an-exam-room."

"You're glowing," Meredith said in wonder, and more calmly. "How do you do that?"

Mark guffawed. "OK now I know that you, Meredith Grey, are not asking me for the finer details of my sexual technique," he kidded.

"Not that," she brushed him off, serious now. "How do you do that? Go back, I mean. Go back to the way things were. I'm asking, you know, because you seem happy, and I'm crying in a closet because Derek bought coffee for an immunologist. So I could use a little advice here."

"You just do it," Mark shrugged.

"But how? How do I trust him again? How can you just take her back like the past year didn't mean anything to you?" Meredith asked, earnestly.

"Listen," Mark replied. "After Derek caught us – the first time, I mean – and left, she stayed. She stayed in my arms, and I picked up the pieces, and we were together – really together – for six months. And then one day she left, too. But the thing was, those were the happiest six months of my life. So no, I'm not over it. But she means too much to me for me to give up without a fight." Meredith gazed up at him, grasping for answers, any answers. "That's what we dirty mistresses do – we don't play fair, we fight. Fight for what you want, Meredith."

"I think I've made a horrible mistake," Meredith admitted. He waited. "This dating thing I've been making them do. I do know what I want – I made my choice long ago. But I was scared to admit it. Scared he might hurt me again. And I don't want him to go away again." _I can't believe I'm confessing my innermost, deep-down, can't-even-tell-Cristina secrets to McSteamy._

Mark just smiled. "Then don't let him."

Meredith sniffled.

"So now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get myself out of this supply closet before Derek walks in here and lays me flat again. These good looks are worth protecting." He paused. "And speaking of good looks - there is a young lady out there, and she is extremely attractive. If I weren't a taken man, I might seduce her myself," Mark said smugly, rising to stand.

"Your point is?" Meredith raised an eyebrow.

"My point is, there is an extremely attractive immunologist outside this door, which leads me believe she is no longer drinking coffee with a certain special someone. Decision time, M-dawg. You in, or are you out?"

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

**A/N: **That's all she wrote, folks (until next time, that is). You know the drill.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own them. Song is Coldplay. 

**A/N: **Since I clearly can't write as quickly as Shonda (sorry guys) this is spinning rapidly AU. If that's not your thing, I apologize, but I already had the whole story plotted out ….

oooooooooooooooooooooooo

"_**Lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones**_

_**And I will try to fix you"**_

Several minutes passed after Mark left, as Meredith pondered his advice. _Taking love advice from a serial man-whore, Meredith? You really have gone downhill._ Shaking off her residual doubts, she dried her eyes. She had to believe that it was not too late for second – or third, or fourth – chances. Pushing open the door to her supply closet, she squinted briefly in the hospital's bright fluorescent lights. Cameron was hovering around the nurses' desk. She looked up nervously from Amelia's chart. Steeling herself, she made to walk towards Meredith.

Her path was intercepted by Cristina and George, who had zeroed in on Meredith.

"Was that seriously McSteamy?" Cristina asked, her voice hitting new notes of incredulity. "Seriously?"

"McSteamy," George moaned dramatically. "No more, Meredith, no mooooore."

"George, for the last time, I am not a whore! And you, too," Meredith turned to Cristina, who was smirking. "Get your mind out of the gutter."

Cameron hovered behind them, waiting for her moment. She was anxious to talk to Meredith but unsure of the reception she would receive after this morning's incident.

Suddenly, Bailey swept up like a hurricane. "What are you suckups doing? Does this look like a social club? Yang, pit. O'Malley, Burke. Grey, Dr. Montgomery needs an intern. And I don't know who you are," she turned to Cameron, "But get back to work!" Cristina and George scattered, George hissing, "Mer, Joe's, 8:15." Bailey stormed off, leaving Meredith and Cameron to face each other.

"Let me guess," Cameron said wryly. "That's your Nazi resident."

Despite her red eyes, Meredith grinned. "Lost again?" she asked, referencing their earlier conversation.

"Listen, Meredith, about before. I get the sense that I stepped in the middle of something quite important between you two, and I want you to know that it was inadvertent and I apologize. What you saw – there's nothing romantic going on between Derek and me. Frankly, he's not my type."

"Hey!" Meredith flushed. "Actually, I think I owe you an apology. I should thank you. This morning helped me to realize that I've been putting off making some decisions for long enough."

Cameron smiled coyly. "Well if it helps at all in the decision-making process, he's clearly crazy about you. Couldn't stop talking about how you're the reason he loves fly-fishing now, or something along those lines."

Meredith laughed, and the moment faded into a companionable, if awkward silence. Both women were relieved to have cleared the air, but uncomfortable with any overly emotional or personal admissions.

"So then," Mer broke the silence. "Interested in hitting up Joe's with us tonight? It's the local intern bar of choice."

Cameron grimaced slightly. "I wish I could, but unfortunately I am still apartment hunting. I can't afford to keep living in a hotel, but you wouldn't believe some of the places I've seen."

Meredith frowned, then shook her head. "Live with us," she said suddenly.

"Excuse me?" Cameron was sure she had misheard.

"Live with us. I have my mother's house. She was an attending here when I was growing up. Izzie and George live with me – you'll love Izzie, she is – I mean she used to be – a surgical resident, too."

"Meredith, thank you, but I couldn't. We hardly know each –"

Meredith waved her off. "We know enough. For example, favorite 80's band."

Cameron crinkled her eyebrows in confusion. "I was obsessed with the Eurhythmics," she finally confessed.

"Exactly. You'll fit in fine."

"Your mother …was your mother Ellis Grey?" Cameron was putting two and two together. Meredith shrugged in acknowledgement. "Damn," Cameron breathed. "You do have problems." She thought of Chase and his tortured relationship with his father.

"What do you say?" Meredith wheedled, unsure of what had possessed her to be so adamant, so open. "Come to Joe's, meet Izzie, see the house, drink some tequila. You can crash on the couch until we get your stuff." At the mention of tequila, Cameron lifted an immaculate eyebrow.

"Tequila has a bad habit of making me overly honest, so if we're going to be drinking buddies, I guess I should tell you something now. This morning, when you asked me about my boss – House – I lied." It was Meredith's turn to raise a skeptical glance. Cameron put her hands up in a gesture of capitulation. "Let's just say I have no right to lecture you, or anyone else, about having a hopelessly debilitating and entirely mortifying crush on your attending."

"Oh boy," Meredith squealed. "Are we ever going to need a lot of tequila."

ooooooooooooooooooo

**A/N: **This is a short one. Just a transition chapter. Two little hints: even though Meredith has come to some hard realizations, there's still a lot of baggage there. So, she's not going to be quite ready to move forward with Derek. Also, House is cooooming – T minus 2 chapters!


	6. Chapter 6

Thank you for all your reviews.

**Disclaimer:** Still don't own them. Song lyrics are from Coldplay.

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"**The future's for discovering the space in which we're traveling**

**From the top of the first page to the end of the last day"**

**One Month Later.**

"But Meredith dumped the non-doctor almost three weeks ago," Cristina was saying earnestly. For the past ten minutes, she had been trying to convince Meredith to just jump Derek, already. Cameron just smiled, knowing too well that affairs of the heart often took their own time. The women were sitting in Mer's kitchen, and Meredith and Cristina were bickering as Izzie attempted to teach Cameron how to bake her special cookies.

Meredith winced at the memory of the last time she saw Finn. "Don't remind me," she muttered. It was not a memory she wanted to hold near and dear to her heart, that was for certain. Finn had been nice about it, of course. He always was. He was Finn. And everything that Meredith had said felt trite and wrong, because he was Finn and not Derek and really, how did you say that nicely?

"I told you to bring Finn some of my muffins, Mer," Izzie nagged, rubbing flour from her forehead and taking a swig of beer. "More vanilla," she instructed Cameron, who dutifully complied.

"Izzie. What was she supposed to say? Sorry Finn I don't love you, but here – have these muffins my roommate baked for her dead millionaire fiancé?" Cristina retorted.

"Cristina!" Meredith hissed in shocked warning. Izzie had come so far, but she wasn't quite ready to talk about what had happened after Denny's death. Cameron shot a sympathetic glance at Izzie, knowing the other woman might never be ready. She still remembered how House's comments about Brian's death had stung, as though he had only made them yesterday. She reached out to squeeze Izzie's hand, and the gesture seemed to give the blonde strength.

"Get back to the point," Izzie said crossly, waving her spoon in Cristina's general direction, and her voice only wavered the slightest bit. As much as she loved her friends, having Cameron's experience to draw from had made a real difference for her.

"Right. My point." Cristina proceeded to pour Meredith and herself another shot of tequila. "My point is, she broke it off with the vet weeks ago, but she still hasn't told McDreamy? Meredith, you need to stop being so emotionally stunted." Satisfied that she had made her case, Cristina sat back with a smirk.

"Says the girl who lied to her boyfriend about moving in with him," Cameron mocked teasingly. Cristina glared. "What? George told me. Here, eat this." She proffered a freshly baked cookie as a peace offering. Cristina looked at it with suspicion, but accepted the token. Cameron stuffed one in her own mouth before continuing her thought. "All I'm saying is, I get it. The guy hurt her, and there's no guarantee he won't do it again. That's a scary thing to go back to – putting yourself out there to be hurt again." Cameron shuddered slightly, thinking of House. "I get it." She grabbed a second cookie, and paused, then turned to Meredith teasingly. "On the other hand, Mer, McDreamy's hot, and he's got the hots for you. So take one for the team here!"

Meredith tried to glare at her, but couldn't help but laugh. "So you're all ganging up on me, is that it? And here I thought he wasn't your type," she said to Cameron, referencing the conversation the two had had on the first day they met. She paused, remembering that day and her earlier revelations in the supply closet. "Listen, I get it. I know. He's the one, and all that. But Cameron's right. He's the one, and that scares the crap out of me. I all our of second chances."

They all chewed thoughtfully, processing Meredith's admission. It was Cameron who broke the silence when it had stretched too long.

"Damn these cookies are good."

"Seriously," Cristina agreed. "Cameron's giving you a run for your money, Izzie."

"She's like a freaking Martha Stewart in the kitchen," Mer agreed. "Remember that dinner she cooked – what was it, last Thursday?"

"Don't remind me," Cameron groaned. "I am _still_ working off those calories."

The conversation continued, and Cameron leaned back slightly in her seat to observe her new friends. It was amazing, really, how quickly that had happened – friendship, easily given. Not at all tortured and painful, the way it had been at Princeton. Here, Cameron had just arrived and slipped into the tight-knit Seattle group. She'd moved out of the hotel and into the spare bedroom after that first night, and her walls had been crumbling in this new environment ever since.

Cameron and Izzie had bonded immediately over their mutual loss of a loved-one. Cameron rarely talked about the loss of Brian, but she sensed that Izzie needed to talk about Denny, his life and death. The two women had gone out one night, gotten drunk on expensive wine ("I have eight million dollars," was Izzie's defense), cried, talked, and a silent understanding was born. With Izzie, Cameron could be act like a girl. Since her work on the diagnostics team came in spurts, and Izzie wasn't operating until her probation was up, they often spent hours shopping, cooking, and chatting.

Alex and George reminded Cameron of Foreman and Chase. She enjoyed their ceaseless bickering and ignored their occasional attempts at flirtation. She understood that neither was really interested in her – in fact, she suspected that Alex still carried something of a torch for Izzie, though he would die before he admitted it. Every Thursday morning, Cameron and George went running – they were contemplating running a half-marathon on Thanksgiving Day ("anything to get me out the annual O'Malley turkey hunt," George said darkly, and Cameron hadn't pressed the issue.) Cameron was slowly coming to regard them as brothers.

Cristina was her typical standoffish and sarcastic self at first, but eventually her desire to know more about House had won out. She couldn't get enough of Cameron's stories about cases the PPTH team had handled and House's approach to patient care in general ("He told the patient _what_?" was her amazed refrain as she walked away with an impressed grin on her face.) However, it was the day at lunch when Cameron helped Cristina perform an emergency cricothyrotomy using a kitchen knife on a diner patron who had collapsed that really sealed the deal. ("That was so cool," Cameron admitted breathlessly after the paramedics had rushed the woman to SGH.) Secretly, Cameron actually enjoyed Cristina's sarcasm and bluntness – it reminded her of home.

Meredith and Cameron had bonded over the similarities in their recent relationships – or "non-relationship," as Cameron called hers. The egged each other on with horror stories ("Worst moment?" "When his wife asked if I was the intern who was sleeping with her husband. No wait. When my underwear was on the bulletin board. No wait, when I told his wife's new boyfriend that I was an adulterous whore.") Cameron was beginning to believe that with the help of enough alcohol and late-night movie marathons, in healing each other they might just fill that little hole that persisted in themselves.

In short, thanks to these people, Cameron was rediscovering her faith in herself. She had even attempted a few dates of late. She'd gone out twice with a resident in Ortho that she met through Callie Torres. Sparks hadn't flown, but truthfully, Cameron wasn't sorry. Romance was a lot easier when it didn't involve your heart.

"Hey earth to Cameron!" The other women were peering at her curiously. She grinned sheepishly, realizing she had lost the train of conversation minutes ago. "Joe's?"

Cameron smiled, reaching for the strings on her apron. "Absolutely."

ooooooooooooooooooooooo

Two hours later, the women had built a significant pyramid of empty shot glasses. They were currently dancing and singing along to Madonna on the jukebox, oblivious to the other bar patrons. Joe stood behind the bar, laughing at the spectacle before him. Unbeknownst to Meredith, Derek sat in a corner booth, sulking over his glass of scotch, a watchful eye on her.

The bells above the door tinkled, announcing a new arrival. Derek looked up to see Mark and Addison enter. Addison nodded and squeezed Mark's hand as he whispered in her ear. She headed towards the bar as Mark made a beeline for Derek.

"Want me to hit you again?" Derek growled as Mark approached. The other surgeon winced, touching his face gently.

"Not particularly. This face is way too precious. Why so glum, amigo?"

"We're not friends, Mark," Derek replied, tiredly, but some of the old anger had gone. He could not soon forget his old love for Addison – after eleven years of marriage, he still thought of her as family, and hoped he would always feel that way. So if Mark made Addison happy, Derek was willing to attempt to get over the fact that his former best friend was a lying, cheating sack of –

"You look like hell," Mark said, interrupting Derek's train of thought. Derek glared at him, but Mark ignored the warning look. "This about the young Ms. Grey?" he asked, mischievously inclining his head towards the blissfully ignorant intern as he slid into the booth across from Derek. "Listen, Derek. Addie and I were talking -"

"Don't -"

"No, you listen to me now. You're being a jackass, and that's something I know a little about."

"You don't know the first thing about my relationship with -"

"My turn still. Do you love her, Derek?"

Derek stared stubbornly, sourly into his scotch. Finally, he nodded.

"Then do what it takes, man. She's terrified. Can you blame her? You hurt her and that's not something that goes away because you're getting a divorce. But she loves you – no don't give me that look, because I know she does. It comes with the dirty mistress territory. Be a man, Derek. Do something before it's too late."

"I said I'd wait, Mark. Give her the time she needed. Damn it I know I've made mistakes." He slammed his empty glass down as Addison approached him with a fresh one. Senselessly, it made him even angrier to be comforted by his ex-wife and her new boyfriend, or whatever Mark was to Addison. "I am trying to be a patient man here," he finished, forcing the words through clenched teeth.

"Don't be too patient -" Addie said gently. "We women can be awfully stubborn."

"Alright, happy couple, that's enough," Derek scowled. "Enough relationship advice from my exes for one lifetime. Leave the single man to his scotch."

Addison nodded, and she and Mark wandered off to find a table of their own.

Derek was glaring at the drink she had brought him when a harsh beeping broke through his rambling thoughts. He looked down at his pager, which was flashing 911.

oooooooooooooooooooooo


	7. Chapter 7

Enter House. A little bit of bad language in this one, sorry guys. You've been warned.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own it. Lyrics courtesy of Tegan & Sara …

oooooooooooooooooo

"**I was walking with a ghost**

**I said please, please don't insist"**

Derek and Cameron headed for the door at the same moment, nearly colliding. "Derek?" Cameron asked, confused. "I didn't know you were here. My pager just went off. It's Amelia. This is the third time she's been to the ER in the past month."

Derek nodded. "I got the page, too."

"I don't think it's surgical, Derek."

"I know. It's just, she responded to me, you know? When she was in the hospital before." He sighed. "I asked the nurses to page me if she was readmitted."

"You had a feeling she'd be back," Cameron said.

Derek sighed again. "I had a feeling."

Cameron had to acknowledge that Amelia perked up when Derek was around. " I just can't figure out what's going on with her," she said, frustrated. "I just, I feel like it's on the tip of my tongue and I just can't …" _I feel like I'm not good enough to fix her_. Her unspoken thought hung heavy in the air.

"Cameron, don't beat yourself up. You were dead on with the cerebral phaeohyphomycosis. There's just something else we haven't found yet. We're going to get this. We'll figure it out."

The two quickened their pace as they entered the ER, heading towards the hum of activity around curtain 2.

"Dr. Shephard, she's coding!" Olivia shouted, spotting their approach.

Derek swore under his breath. Pushing the trauma intern on-call out of the way, he took over contractions as Cameron grabbed the paddles.

"Damn it Amelia, breathe!" he shouted in frustration.

"Charge to 150." Derek moved off the gurney as Cameron shocked the little girl, trying not to wince at how her small body went stiff and then limp at the charge. There was no change.

"200," she ordered shortly. Derek stood, panting, to the side, allowing her to run the code.

"Dammit. OK people, charge to 300. Clear!" Cameron administered the charge, then held her breath.

Slowly but surely, the heart monitor began to beep. The little girl stirred, coughing weakly.

"Oh thank god," Cameron collapsed into the nearest chair.

ooooooooooooooo

It was early dawn by the time they got Amelia situated in her private room. Derek had won approval from Chief Webber to keep her on the surgical floor despite the fact that there was no apparent need for surgery. The Chief had insisted on the private room, "in case she's infectious," although Cameron suspected he also had a soft spot for the girl.

Cameron paced back and forth, pausing occasionally to dash to Amelia's chart and mentally check off another possibility. Derek slumped in a chair by the window, watching her.

"We'll need to get an echo, definitely. We need to determine how much damage has been done to her heart. I'll rerun the bloodwork to see if I missed anything, and we can do another CT, but we may need to do some more invasive diagnostics if it all comes up clean. I just hate the thought of putting that little girl through any more pain. Do you think we could have missed something bacterial?" she broke off to ask Derek hopefully.

"Cameron, stop. Her bloodwork was clean when we released her after the first procedure," Derek reminded her. "Also, I am a neurosurgeon. The first and only time I've heard of half of the exotic bacteria you've rattled off in the past half-hour was in one elective seminar on tropical diseases in my third year of medical school."

Cameron turned to look at Derek sheepishly. It wasn't his fault – he had his specialty, and he was a world-renowned neurosurgeon. If Amelia had an aneurism, Derek would be her best shot. But this was Cameron's specialty, and she was beginning to feel like she was letting everyone down.

"I need my team," she admitted softly.

Derek tossed her his cell phone. "Call McArthur," he said. Cameron shook her head no. "I know it's early, but look, I know Clarine McArthur well. She won't mind being woken up, not if it's for a patient."

"It's not that," Cameron told him. "The team – well, we've been swamped, lately. Six active cases, and Dr. Pearson's been out with the flu. And with Amelia, we've just run out of options. Medically, there's nothing wrong with this child that we can find, and McArthur can't just order a whole series of tests for diseases that this girl has a 1 in a million chance of having."

"She's giving up?" Derek asked, resignedly.

"Not giving up, Derek. We all took the Hippocratic oath here. But she needs to concentrate her resources on patients we can save. The instructions were if Amelia came in again, make her comfortable and wait for new symptoms to develop." Cameron's excuses rang hollow. She knew if it had been House, there would be no way the team would be sitting around waiting. House would have bankrupt the hospital with expensive unnecessary tests. House lived for a challenge.

"Does cardiac arrest not count as a symptom anymore?" Derek retorted.

"I need my team," Cameron repeated again, more firmly.

"The infamous Princeton team?" Derek said. "Allison, you know better than anyone in this hospital that Dr. House doesn't do consults for other institutions."

Cameron snorted. "Please. He turns away half the patients that come through Princeton's clinic, also. I'm not talking about calling House, Derek. It was just -" _Just what, Cameron? A thought? A moment of weakness?_

Derek said nothing, watching the internal struggle playing out on Cameron's face. He made the decision to test her, push her, and so he pointed to his phone, still in Cameron's hands. "You said you need your team. So, call."

Cameron's eyes welled with tears. She looked at the little girl lying peacefully in the bed before her, oblivious to all those tubes and monitors in her sleep. "I can't," she admitted hoarsely. "You don't know – the way I left Princeton -"

"People don't just pick up their lives and move cross-country unless they're trying to put some space between themselves and what they're running from," he reminded her gently. He thought briefly of that night in the rain with Addison, almost a year in the past. "I know."

"It wasn't like you and Meredith," Cameron admitted slowly, clutching his phone like a lifeline. "It wasn't love at first sight, there was no one-night stand. He took me to a monster truck rally, once, but I'm pretty sure that was only because Wilson couldn't go. I never slept with him, we didn't even have a real relationship, and there I was, mooning over a sarcastic, middle-aged cripple. I didn't like who I was becoming. I kissed him – I provoked the situation. And then – we had a fight. He said some things, I said some horrible things. And then I ran away. And now this girl is going to die, and I am worrying about what I'll say to him. How ridiculous is that?"

"It's your call," Derek repeated, sympathetically.

Cameron thought for a moment. "What time is it?" she asked.

"4:15 in the morning," Derek groaned. "Don't remind me. Why?"

"That makes it 7:15 on the East Coast?" Cameron asked, inspiration dawning. Derek nodded, and Cameron grinned.

"Why so happy all of a sudden?" he asked, suspiciously. Damn if he would ever figure out how women worked.

"House never comes in before 8:30," she told Derek triumphantly as she began to dial. "Even when we have a case. Sometimes he barely makes it in by noon. But I bet he's got Chase opening his mail and making his coffee now that I'm not around to boss anymore."

oooooooooooooooooo

"Chase it's me. I need your help." Cameron stood by the surgical nurse's station, having left Amelia's room to avoid waking the girl up.

"Cameron?" Chase's voice immediately dropped to a whisper.

"Yeah, Chase, it's me," Cameron replied impatiently, not bothering with formalities. "Listen, I've got this case, a little girl. She looks like an angel, Chase, you should see her. Blonde hair, blue eyes, really just gets under your skin. I … need a little help with the diagnosis – Chase, are you there?" Cameron thought she heard the sounds of a scuffle on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, sorry, I'm here, it's just -"

""Chase why are you whispering?" Cameron asked, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach even as she knew the answer to her question.

"Could it be? Is it my prodigal duckling?" House's voice boomed over the line, cheery, with a hint of cruelty.

"Dr. House." Cameron steeled herself. "You're not usually in this early."

"He's been acting differently since you've been gone," Chase noted, glumly, as House pinned him with a glare. He figured some other time he could tell Cameron that after her departure, House had taken to sleeping at his desk next to a bottle of scotch.

"What can we do for you, Dr. Cameron?" House continued his cheerful façade. "Calling to reminisce about the happy days gone by? Don't say it, you missed us."

Cameron took a deep breath and chose not to rise to his bait. "Professional courtesy, actually. I was hoping Dr. Chase could consult on a case."

"Dr. Chase, huh?" House replied. "Not Dr. Foreman and Dr. House? Hell, or even Dr. Wilson or Dr. Cuddy? Why I'm hurt, Cameron. What does Dr. Chase have that the rest of us don't? Oh, I forgot. It must have been that magical night of meth and passion -"

"House." Chase interrupted sharply.

Cameron sighed. If she had gotten some sleep last night instead of heading to Joe's, she would have realized that this was a bad idea before she picked up the phone. "You know what, never mind. Chase, thank you for your time. Dr. House -"

"Now wait just a minute," House chided. "Aren't you even going to share the symptoms? You wouldn't make a long distance call from Seattle just for kicks. And judging by the time here, you've been up all night. Let old House in on the fun."

Cameron paused for a split-second, torn. Looking back at Amelia's room, where Derek had fallen asleep in the visitor's chair, she made up her mind. He might be an ass, and he would probably take advantage of her and then kick her while she was down. But there was no better diagnostician on this earth than Gregory House, and if anyone could solve this riddle over the phone, it would be him. Taking a deep breath, she rattled off her list of symptoms.

"Oh goodie," House said when she was done. "A brainteaser!"

"A sick little girl," Cameron reminded him crossly.

"Semantics," he replied.

"A disease of the lymphatic system?' Chase suggested.

Cameron shook her head. "No abnormalities. White blood count is stable."

"Alright, give me blood pressure, hemoglobin, white blood count, and results of the urine sample," House demanded. Cameron dutifully recited the little girl's stats.

"Creutzfeldt-Jakob?" Chase guessed.

"A six-year-old with Mad Cow? Really, Dr. Chase?" House snapped. "Why don't you entertain us all by throwing out some more diagnoses with your head up your ass?"

"Well what do you suggest then?" Chase shot back.

"You can't diagnose a patient without being able to see it," House told him, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Her," Cameron corrected automatically, before realizing what he was saying. "You don't see patients," she reminded him, dread forming in the pit of her stomach.

"No, that's what you people are for. But if you think I'm going to trust the test results taken at some nowhere hospital by god knows who -"

"I did the tests, House," Cameron retorted, affronted.

"Yeah well, I need to be near the patient. Sense the energy and all that." Cameron sighed angrily. He was so full of crap.

"You mean get out of clinic duty. And what do you suggest we do with our patient here in Princeton?" Chase asked.

"I suggest you treat him for disseminated nocardiosis," House shot back. "Like you should have been doing since he walked in here."

"You've known what he had for three days and you didn't bother to tell anyone?" Chase asked, incredulous.

"Please. And ruin the fun of watching you and Foreman chase each other's tails? The lung infection, the puncture wound, he worked on a farm? Is this ringing any bells? Are you sure you went to med school? Start him on a course of long-term antibiotics, and go tell Cuddy we're going to Seattle to rescue our prodigal duckling before she hurts herself."

Cameron stood in shock, one hand on the nurses' station to balance herself. Was this really happening? Was this really Gregory House speaking?

"Cameron? Earth to Cameron! I expect we'll see your smiling face to greet us at the airport? Wear something skimpy." With that, House hung up the phone.

In Princeton, House sank shakily back into his chair, glad Chase had scurried off and wasn't able to observe his reaction.

In Seattle, Cameron stared carefully at the floor, attempting to divine from the marble exactly how she could prepare this hospital for one House-sized tornado that was about to arrive.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** This chapter has some bad language and references to drug abuse. Please don't read if this bothers you.

Lyrics are Mat Kearney.

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"_**This is my second chance, this is my one romance**_

**_This is the cutting line on which I stand to show you"_**

House sat staring resolutely forward, his restlessly twitching leg the only outward sign of his inner turmoil. Thankfully, he had forced Chase and Foreman to take the tickets in coach, leaving only dependable Wilson at his side. Which was a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how introspective House felt like being at any given moment. Right now, Wilson was giving him the _look_. The _look_ that meant, do you want to talk about it? House didn't want to talk about what had happened between himself and Cameron. Most of the time, he tried to avoid even thinking about that night, preferring to drown himself in scotch and work. But Wilson wasn't going to let go of this, and they were trapped in an enclosed space for at least another few hours. House needed to shut this down, and fast.

Wilson began his opening gambit. "What I still don't understand is why I am going to Seattle to treat a little girl who, judging from her charts, absolutely does not have cancer. You do remember that I am an oncologist, don't you?"

"You think those Seattle oncologists know their asses from their elbows? I'm surprised in you, Wilson. Such unexpected faith in humanity." House retorted, lifting an eyebrow. _Keep it light. Keep it sarcastic. Keep the conversation off Cameron._

"And medical school," Wilson pointed out.

"Listen, I thought you would have been grateful to me for convincing Cuddy to let you in on this all-expenses-paid cross-country jaunt."

"I believe her exact words were, if House screws up it's your fault," Wilson said wryly. "You may no longer have concern for your reputation or PPTH's, but I do. I don't want any part in this escapade."

"All part of the legend, my friend," House cracked.

"Why don't you tell me what this is about, Greg? Because I sure as hell know you don't give a damn about the patient."

House noticed that Wilson sounded more tired than his usual self. Maybe one of these days he really would succeed in pushing him away for good. Although if all the prescription-stealing and affair-mocking hadn't done it, he doubted a cross-country trip would do the trick. "How do you know?" He tossed back flippantly.

"You haven't even looked at the chart."

"There's time for that. After we load up on those little mini-bottles of airplane scotch. Waitress!" House shouted. Wilson grimaced and settled back to watch the flight attendant berate his friend.

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House might have been able to deter Wilson from dwelling on what had happened with Cameron, but his own brain was a far more formidable foe. He couldn't stop himself from replaying _that_ night over and over in his mind.

She had found him in his apartment, rubber tourniquet still around his arm, empty syringe on the table, splayed out on the couch, music blasting, scotch at his side.

"House," she said softly, and he looked up, shocked, to see the expression in her eyes. _Cameron no how did she get into my apartment fuck no_. It wasn't anger or betrayal or any one of the number of things he expected to see in her eyes. Instead, he saw sadness. Sympathy? In that moment, he was enraged. Filled with hate and shame for himself and for what he had become, that she would look at him like _that._ Idly he wondered what it would take, how hard he would have to push her to make her hate him as much as he hated himself. He figured he was well on his way.

"Fuck, Cameron," he said, and his voice was menacing.

"I didn't – I knocked but you didn't answer. The door was open … I was worried," she babbled nervously, never taking her eyes off his steely blue ones.

He debated the value of reminding her that when one didn't answer the door, it meant they didn't want to be disturbed, but chose not to. "I'm fine. Go home." House moved to sit up and winced at the pain in his leg. He rummaged around for a clean needle.

"You're not fine." Her voice hadn't lost that soft edge that he didn't understand.

Their patient had died that afternoon. He still didn't know the cause.

In an instant she was beside him. He allowed himself that instant, just to appreciate the way she felt beside him. When he was truthful with himself, House knew that he was falling in love with her. He was rarely truthful. He pushed her away because it was convenient, because it was easier, it was safer, and he knew she would come back. He was a coward. But she couldn't handle his darkest bits, and she would leave him like Stacy had, and then he would be alone – only the emptiness would be worse for having once been filled.

"Don't," he growled at her, a warning not to get involved. She ignored him, reaching out to pluck the needle from him. Soft hands, pushing at his chest, asking him to lean back on the couch, as she kneeled between his legs. Gentle fingers, removing the rubber from his arm. Warm breath, on the track marks. And then she placed her hands on his injured thigh and began to knead the distressed muscle. There was nothing erotic about her actions, but it felt so good. House allowed his head to tip back and enjoyed the relief she was willing to provide.

Later, he felt her hands still. He imagined he would see her peering up at him if he opened his eyes, so didn't bother. He felt her weight shift above him, and knew that she had positioned herself face to face with him. Instinctively, he understood that she would kiss him, and he knew that once she did, she would know how he felt about her, that he wanted more than her pity. Would understand that when he said, "Everybody lies," he referred mostly to himself.

Her lips touched his, and House lost control. Suddenly, he wanted to know what it would take to make her angry. It was either give in, or push her away completely. House pushed, and Cameron toppled backwards onto the floor, smacking her head on his coffee table in the process. Shit.

"Are you OK?" he asked, keeping the worry he felt from his voice. He hadn't meant to hurt her, hadn't even meant for her to fall, simply wanted her to get away.

"Ow." She nodded, looking up at him cautiously. He exhaled in relief.

"Then get out," he told her coldly. He was embarrassed. He lacked the courage to face his fears, his addictions. Intellectually, he knew she understood all this, and yet tears still sprang to her eyes, and he hated that he pushed her there. "Get the hell out, Cameron," he said more forcefully.

Cameron stood cautiously. "I know you care about me, House," she said brokenly. "House-"

He made to step towards her. She shrank back. His heart broke.

"I know you care about me," she sobbed wildly. "I've seen you, when you don't think I'm looking. You watch me, House, you want me and we both know it. Why are you so afraid?"

She had him there and they both knew it. House longed desperately to rewind this evening, to go back to watching his soaps in drugged-out bliss. He was feeling horribly sober all of a sudden. He chose his words carefully. She could never know.

"You think I want you, Cameron? How do you know I'm not watching to make sure you don't kill another patient?

"I know," she replied stubbornly, tears continuing to fall.

"Cameron, I am going to say this one more time, and then I am going to call the cops. Get. Out." He advanced towards her, driving her back towards the door with his cane. She stopped on the threshold, challenging him one last time. When he allowed himself to meet her eyes, he saw that he had misjudged her, that just because she hadn't shouted like he had didn't mean she wasn't angry as hell.

"Are you really such a miserable person that you'll drive away something that might have been the best fucking thing that ever happened to either of us?" She swore with a fluency that shocked him, but it was too late to back down now. He said nothing.

"This was the last time I'll ask, House. I hope you die alone." With that, she was gone.

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_I hope you die alone_. House awoke from his fitful sleep with a jerk. That was the last real thing she'd said to him, until she put in her papers for the transfer a few days later. He had signed off on them, believing it actually would be better if she was gone.

Only it wasn't. His team dynamic was off, he hadn't done laundry in a month, he was drinking more scotch and popping more pills than even he thought was healthy. He missed her, and that terrified him more than anything. He had cut her out of his life to avoid precisely the feeling he had right now – like a gaping black hole was eating him from the inside out. And then the incident with Tritter had happened, shaking him even though he wouldn't admit it, and a week later she had called. _I hope you die alone_. He knew she hadn't called him, had in fact hoped to avoid him entirely. He knew she was probably desperate about her patient, struggling with her own sense of self-worth as a doctor. He had abused that knowledge to get here, he realized. He wanted to see her. Had to see her. Needed to see her. Didn't want to live alone anymore. Didn't want to die alone.

The plane touched down with a thud and House was jostled from his thoughts. It was all very well and good to have this self-realization, he thought morosely. It was the question of what, exactly, he was going to do about it that he still had no answers for. His stomach clenched in anticipation of seeing Cameron in just a few moments, and he pushed his way to the front of the plane. "Cripple coming through," he muttered when the flight attendant he had called "waitress" gave him another look.

Consequently, he was the first from his team to arrive at the arrivals gate, where he found not Cameron, but a sour-faced Asian woman giving him a very hostile look.

"You must be House," she remarked.

"Bum leg give it away?" he retorted, wondering who the hell she was and why she knew him. Hopefully not another disgruntled patient.

She shrugged dismissively. "Nope. You just look like the misanthropic ass I was told to expect."

House smirked. He was startled, but he appreciated a healthy dose of snark, having mastered the art of sarcasm himself. "A friend of Cameron's, I suppose? There's nothing like a jilted lover's description."

"Listen here," the petite woman turned on him with a ferocious snarl. "I promised I'd play nice, so I'll only say this once. You don't deserve her, even if you're a famous doctor, and whatever you did hurt her. So you better undo it."

"I intend to try," House said, calmly.

"Because she's broken," she steamrolled over his admission, as though she hadn't heard him. "She's broken, and you broke her, and I have enough broken people in my life right now, and I've got problems of my own. Moaning about McDreamy and McDenny and McDirty-Orthopedic-Chick when people are getting shot-"

House smirked. This chick had issues.

"Seriously?" she said, noticing his amusement. "Don't sass me or I'll leave you here."

"I wouldn't dream of sassing you," House replied, his heart already lifting slightly. She might not have come to the airport, but if Cameron was "broken," as this crazy woman put it – that meant she still cared. House still didn't know what _that _meant, only that it was better than the alternative.

"Fine." The woman was still talking. "I'm Cristina Yang, first year surgical intern at Seattle Grace. You are the ass who is currently preventing me from scrubbing in on a really cool surgery. Where's the rest of your team?"

As if on cue, Wilson, Chase, and Foreman appeared, breathing heavily and looking crossly at House.

"What?" House shrugged. "Can't keep up with a cripple?" He was met by glares. "I see some people get cranky with jetlag. Wilson, Chase, Foreman, meet angry Asian intern." Cristina was glaring at him now, too.

"Gee, isn't this going to be fun?" House noted, hobbling quickly towards the exit.

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**A/N:** So now you know why Cameron left … stick around, this story is just starting to get good!


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